


This Don't Even Feel Like Falling

by Edwardina



Category: Glee
Genre: Bukkake, Circle Jerk, Comeplay, Exhibitionism, Facials, Group Sexual Situation, M/M, Masturbation, PWP, Underage Drinking, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-30
Updated: 2012-08-30
Packaged: 2017-12-05 19:22:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/727017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Edwardina/pseuds/Edwardina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Halo</i> night leads Joe straight into temptation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Don't Even Feel Like Falling

**Author's Note:**

> I was prompted by an anon: _Would you consider writing a story where the Glee boys have a circle jerk, and the focus is on Sam?_ WOULD I EVER! Thanks, anon! I hope it's not too off-topic for your interests. Takes place between 317 and 318. Title from "Halo" by Beyoncé.

_Halo_ night.

It sounded pretty saintly, until you learned that _Halo_ was a violent video game and not exactly Christian.

What a moral quandary. Joe had just started public school a month ago, and already he was running into all the things his mom had warned him about: peer pressure, girls, peer pressure, atheists, peer pressure. She hadn't warned him specifically about gay people, but it turned out they were definitely out there, and now he was being invited to a party.

In his mind, the word "party" conjured up scenarios where everyone was drinking and irresponsible teens Todd and Cindy wound up driving drunk and swerving off a mountainside highway, and of course dying without their souls having been saved and going straight to Hell. There were sections upon sections about peer pressure and people trying to lead you from God in the youth bible he'd been given at church camp when he was twelve. It was full of inserts with teen-relevant topics such as parties, dates, drinking and drugs (they mentioned PCP a lot), and cliques.

"It's kind of a tradition," Sam Evans told him, standing at his locker with him, backpack over his shoulder. "I think it got started on the football team, but then a bunch of football players joined glee, so now it's a glee thing. Video games, movies, junk food. We kinda just... mess around, let the testosterone flow. Just us guys. It's a chance for us all to let off some steam so we can go into Nationals focused and united as a team."

So Quinn wouldn't be at this party. But all the guys in glee club would be, and he really wanted to be friends with everybody, not just the God Squad. That's what he'd come to public school for, right? To make friends that weren't his parents or admittedly righteous tattoo artist. And this way he wouldn't have to worry about his body's frustrating desires popping up uninvited.

"Sounds cool," Joe had said, relieved and disappointed at the same time. "Count me in."

"Good," said Sam. "Maybe we can help you out with your, uh... feelings. That you've been having. Pants-wise."

"Oh," said Joe. He didn't know what that meant, but that was personal information Sam was bandying about in the crowded hallway. He looked over his shoulder anyway, just in case someone was listening in. Sam chuckled at him and clapped him on the back.

"Pick you up at eight!"

The timing was good, because Quinn had physical therapy at five, so he had plenty of time to go with her and see her in a relatively safe, PCP-free environment.

Quinn had forgiven him about the totally unseemly response he'd had the last time while feeling her stretch under her soft yoga pants, her butt right by his hip; she'd seemed kind of flattered, even. But Joe had learned all about what had happened to her when she'd given into temptation, and while they'd talked in the car on the way home, Quinn had said, throatily, _I don't want to put myself on a path that could lead to another unplanned pregnancy. So if you're not okay with the fact that I'm not going to have sex with you – not anytime soon, anyway – then maybe this shouldn't go any further._

 _I believe in waiting_ , Joe had told her automatically.

Quinn smiled. _So did I._

 _What I'm trying to say is that I would never want you to break a promise to God or to yourself_ , Joe assured her. _True love waits. I really believe that. And I want to wait for the love God wants me to have. Maybe it's you? Not to freak you out by saying that. I'm so freaking sorry about... getting like that, with you. I don't know how to apologize enough. I don't want to..._

He'd meant to say that he didn't want to have sex with her, but couldn't get the words out.

 _I don't want that to happen to you again_ , he finished. _I respect you. I respect what you want._

 _You know, I believe you. Your face says it all_ , Quinn had said, smiling softly. She'd cupped his cheek, then, in an almost motherly way, then leaned over and kissed him. Somehow, she'd drawn him in closer, too, and it was just happening, right there: his first real kiss. It was like a little agony of mixed ecstasy and guilt, with his words about wanting to wait for his true love still ringing in his ears making him instantly into a hypocrite even though it felt like his whole soul was lifting in his body, shining bright. But as transcendental as it was, it was over before anything inside him – or, uh, in his jeans – could rise even further. _Help me into my chair?_

"Ah, a Puckerman party," was what Quinn said that afternoon. They were both concentrating very piously on getting her along her walk between the parallel bars. Joe was just hovering beside her, ready to catch if she should fall or give her strength if she got too wobbly.

"Have you been to one?"

"Hm, no, it's a thing the boys do all by themselves. But I've heard a couple of sordid details."

"Well? Can you help me out? I've never been to a party that didn't involve hymns being sung before and after. I'm kind of nervous, or something, I don't know. What do I do at a secular party?"

"Well, since it's Puck, there will be drinking," Quinn said, "but you don't have to partake. No matter what everyone else is doing, be true to yourself and say no if you don't want to drink. Puck loves his fun, but he'll probably be like, 'Whatever, more booze for me,' so you're in the clear."

"Okay. Cool. I can be a designated driver."

Quinn laughed. "I'm sure that will be appreciated by the people who do partake."

"Anything else?"

"I've heard rumors of both clothes and dignity being shed," Quinn said, slowly easing herself another precious step along. "They crank-called me once over the summer and made armpit noises into the phone. So it sounds like you're in for an evening of mature, thoughtful discussion."

"I'd better work on my armpit noises," said Joe, getting Quinn to laugh.

"Oh, and there's another thing you might not be aware of."

"What's that?"

"Your hands are on my hips."

"Oh." They were. Joe wasn't even sure when he'd done that; it was like his body was completely rebelling against him. He removed them quickly, as if her body was too hot to touch. "I'm so sorry!"

At eight, Sam and Finn picked him up, and briefly shook his dad's hand and said it was nice to meet his mom and answered their questions: yes, ma'am, it's a video game where you're a soldier fighting aliens; it's just going to be a few guys from glee club – no, no girls, just some old-fashioned male bonding; well, Sam went to St. Joseph's Parish every Sunday, and he'd also gone to Truth Baptist Tabernacle with his friend over the summer and had learned a lot; Finn _had_ found Jesus... on a grilled cheese sandwich once; yes, they would drop him off at eleven-thirty.

"Wow, Sam. I think my parents really liked you," Joe told Sam, once they were in Finn's car puttering off to Puckerman's. "They even skipped asking you your favorite bible verse."

"It's James 5:13," Sam said with a grin.

"My parents really like him, too," Finn said, as if all four of those adults were fools.

"Did you really see Jesus on a grilled cheese sandwich, or was that some kind of joke?" Sam asked.

Finn sighed. "If it's all the same, I'd rather not talk about it."

Joe reached for his phone. It was still new and fancy and he didn't really care about it either way, but all the kids in public school had phones, and being able to Google anything at any time was handy. He slowly typed in "James 5:13" and read on his screen: _Is anyone among you suffering? Let him pray. Is anyone cheerful? Let him sing praise._

The vague sense of anxiety in his stomach that made him feel like he was going to bible camp for weeks and not a party for a few hours seemed to melt away. Sam was a solid guy. So maybe he'd chosen not to wait and thought that some of the things in the bible were outdated, but so did Joe's parents, and they still believed in salvation through Jesus Christ; Sam had real faith, too, and even if Joe didn't totally agree with him about pre-marital sex being irresistible, he had to respect that he'd made his own choices about it after taking the bible into account. And hanging out with everybody outside of school, glee club rehearsals, and God Squad meetings seemed like it could be fun.

Puck greeted them at his front door with a very serious, "Gentlemen."

The red plastic cup in his hand didn't seem to impact the grandiose welcome a bit. He stood aside and let them in, raising his cup to Finn and Sam and simply eying Joe.

"Didn't know you were coming, Teen Jesus," he commented.

"Oh, I invited him," Sam said.

"It's cool. Plenty of brewskis to go around, and check it out, my mom scored the most ginormous bag of Cheetos I have ever seen. That woman knows her way around a coupon."

"Awesome!" Finn enthused.

"This way, bro," Puck told Joe, tilting his head. "Welcome to the festivities."

The festivities seemed to be nothing more than all the glee guys sitting around in Puck's living room, where there was moss-green carpet, TV trays with some junk food, and a cooler full of beer and soda by the flat-screen TV. Artie's chair had been wedged in by the couch. Mike was sitting on the couch next to him, chanting, "Go, go-go-go!" as they both jammed on the controllers in their hands. The entire room erupted in an "Ohhh!" that Joe couldn't determine as good or bad, as he had literally no idea what was going on with the busy, dizzying screen. Rory was parked next to Mike with a bowl of microwave popcorn, some of which was already scattered around on the floor, and Blaine was sitting cross-legged amongst the debris with another controller, squinting in confusion.

"Where am I?"

"Dude, what are you doing! Stop going off randomly!" Artie complained. "This is a team effort!"

"Sorry, I'm – I don't know, I'm lost, I never know where I'm supposed to go," sighed Blaine.

Joe couldn't blame him; the screen was an utter jumble. There was so much motion, his brain didn't know how to compute any of it. No wonder his parents didn't want to own a TV.

"Looks like it's the floor for us," Sam said, grabbing Joe by the shoulders and pulling him into the room.

"Hey y'all," sang out Artie. "White Chocolate's in the house! And Teen Jesus, can I get an amen?"

"Uh, amen," said Joe gamely, which Sam followed up with a heartfelt "A- _men_!"

"Hey, buddy," said Blaine with a grin. "Hey, Joe! Good to see you! Take a seat!"

After a chorus of greetings, Joe wound up on the floor, sandwiched between Blaine and Sam, with Rory's knees in his dreads. Finn got an armchair all to himself, but given that he was tall as a tree and glee club co-captain, that seemed fair.

"Anderson," Puck said sternly, "join the fuckin' party! Look at the left! See the yellow dots on that blue circle? You're the only dot that's not in the middle of the circle. Get there!"

"I'm trying," Blaine said, frustrated.

"A little left, then go down," advised Finn, digging into the cooler.

"Oh! Thanks. I'm way better at _Dance Dance Revolution_. Just saying."

Joe found a Dr. Pepper thrust into his hand. He didn't ordinarily drink soda, but since the alternative seemed to be Budweiser, he just thanked Finn and reveled in the weird feeling of simultaneous alienation and inclusion.

"So, what do you do in this game, again?" he asked, cracking open the soda.

"Have you ever played any video games?" Sam asked him sagely. "Like, _Mario World_ or anything?"

"My church had _Bible Games_ for the PC," said Joe.

"Okay... well, this is a shooter, so basically, you just shoot things. Four people can play at the same time," said Sam. "See how the screen is divided up? Artie's 01, Mike's 02, in red right there, see? Blaine's 04. Who's 03?"

"Puckzilla," said Puck, straddling a backwards chair that seemed to have come from the kitchen and grabbing his controller.

"You see it from the shooter's perspective. Just keep your eye on one of the screens at a time, or you'll get dizzy. When their mission is done, we'll switch up and I'll teach you what to do."

"Now that our entire elite squadron is here, let _Halo_ night officially begin!" said Puck.

All the guys cheered, or at least howled in various ways, so Joe lifted a fist. He was at his first non-church-related party. He could just see himself telling Quinn all about it later, and could imagine her laughing and shaking her head. If anyone tried to prank call her, he'd stop them.

Amidst the eerie game noises of explosions, gunfire, some military dialogue, and a lot more shouting at Blaine about where he needed to go, Joe took a few minutes to look around casually, noting a cool "Bless This Home" cross-stitch done in blue and white with a Star of David on the mantel and a bunch of towels sitting in a stack by the TV, which he guessed was there in case someone spilled their soda. He noticed that Blaine had taken his shoes off, so he did too, and felt way more comfortable.

"So where's Kurt?" he wondered, as he realized there was actually one glee guy who wasn't there.

"Oh, this really isn't his scene," Blaine told him with a wink. "I know there was a bunch of drama last week, but don't worry, I have permission to be here. We trust each other more than ever. As long as I keep my hands to myself, he's totally cool with me hanging with the guys. But, like, he doesn't need to worry about that. Bro code. Duh, right?"

"Right," said Joe, blinking. He didn't know much of anything about real gay people, but he was pretty sure this was the first time he'd heard that they might not keep their hands to themselves.

"And I'm sure Sam told you, but you don't have to worry, either, it's all in good fun. It never goes beyond these hallowed walls. What happens on _Halo_ night stays exclusive to _Halo_ night."

"Like a little slice of Vegas, right here in Losertown, USA," said Puck.

"It's kind of fun to have someone new," Mike commented.

"Well, I'm happy to be here," Joe told them, raising his Dr. Pepper. The response was good; Finn clinked with his Budweiser can, Rory grabbed his shoulders and said, "And I'm happy not to be the new guy!" and Artie said, "Praise."

Fellowship! 

A massive red bowl of Cheetos went around.

Blaine elected to have a beer, and then got even more friendly, handing off his controller to Finn so he could take Joe's phone from him and set him up with an iTunes account. He kept thinking of tracks he wanted Joe to hear and simply bought them for him out of the kindness of his heart, saying, "Whatever, dummy, you need to know this entire Michael Jackson album. I can't believe you don't know 'Don't Stop Till You Get Enough.' It's so groovy. You'll love it."

Disco was absolutely amongst Joe's favorite music; his parents had stopped listening to pop music after renouncing discotheques and quitting drugs, but they still had a soft spot for what they considered essential 70s classics. They loved anything from Earth, Wind & Fire to Donna Summer, and Blaine was the only other person Joe had met who actually dug those amazing Bee Gees harmonies. Gosh, it just made him want to dance. During disco week, Blaine had burned him a CD full of tunes. Joe was still spinning it in his room.

Eager for more, Joe took out the weird little ear buds that had come with his phone so he could listen to the track right then and there, offering one to Sam when Sam leaned in to try and hear the music coming out of the tiny speaker. Sam already knew the song and mouthed along with great gusto, slamming on invisible bongos or something. Joe bobbed his head.

"Again, again," Sam said at the end. "Crank it back."

"Okay, you two, put that M.J. shit on speakerphone, let's hear it," said Puck, so Joe set his phone on the arm of the couch and they all listened to Blaine's acquisitions while the _Halo_ squad rattled pixelated figures with extremely violent gunfire and ran around seemingly randomly like chickens with their heads cut off.

It was actually extremely fun and chill.

It got even better when Joe's turn at _Halo_ came up and he was miraculously, mysteriously better than Blaine. He had no idea what he was doing, but Sam gave him clear instructions, and he followed them, sticking close to the figure in red armor. He shot some kind of ostrich (he really didn't know what it was, but Sam said, "Shoot, shoot!" and Joe sent it in an immediate computery crumple to the ground, and Artie declared, "Amazing!").

"Okay, so I am clearly the worst at this game," Blaine said, "but at least I'm not the worst dancer!"

He leapt up and started to shake his hips right in the middle of the floor, beer in one hand, ignoring it when Rory, who had taken player 01, pelted him with a few pieces of retaliatory popcorn.

"Dude! You're blocking the screen," said Finn, who was now player 04.

"Blaaame it on the boogie," sang Blaine. Joe knocked into Sam trying to see around Blaine's waggling.

"Blaine, move your ass!" Sam ordered.

"That's what I'm doing. Sunshine... moonlight..."

"Doorway dance-off," Mike said, hopping up, and Blaine took the bait enthusiastically, following Mike's sneakered moonwalk out of the way of everyone trying to play.

"Well, this is quickly devolving into Scandals," Puck said. "That's a gay nightclub, innocent underclassmen, in case that wasn't totally obvious."

"Whatever. If my legs worked, I'd be dancing all over the damn house and every club in Lima. Beer me," Artie said.

"Good man!" said Puck, dismounting his seat to get to the cooler.

"Yeah, I'll take one, too," Sam said.

"Irish? You want some godawful American swill that will totally insult your cultured palate?"

"Abso-fuckin'-lutely," answered Rory.

"Broseph?" Puck asked.

"I'm cool. Thanks, man," said Joe. He glanced at Puck and caught sight of Blaine and Mike dancing like there were TV personalities there to judge them for it. It looked kind of like Blaine had lassoed Mike and was jerking him around by the hips with an invisible rope.

"Cool. More booze for me," said Puck easily. It was exactly what Quinn had said he'd say.

"Okay, we're heading to the basement level," said Sam to the _Halo_ players. "Hang tight to me, Joe. Thanks," he added to Puck, tucking the opened can of beer Puck handed him between his thighs then carelessly smooching the knuckles Puck playfully thrust at his cheek. Joe's eyes again darted to Puck's face uncertainly, but Puck just raised a brow and headed back to his seat and pulled a beat-up looking laptop with a broken latch and a half-torn sticker that said SEX PIS onto one knee.

"This really is godawful swill," Rory grimaced.

"Drink up, you skinny underage miscreant," Puck responded.

The round, or mission, or whatever the terminology was, seemed to go by a lot faster than when the first group had played. It was engrossing, Joe realized, testing his reflexes and exploring the world in the game, and Sam seemed to have a strategy. Even if he didn't actually, and Joe really had no idea where he was going or about the major objective besides shooting whatever Sam told him to, it seemed less like random running around when Joe was the one controlling his screen. The game was violent, though, and he knew his parents wouldn't be down with the bloodshed, considering that they were kind of hippies – and before, Joe wouldn't have been interested, really, but amazing music was blaring from his phone and everyone else was totally into it, too. This was a party? This was drinking? It seemed kind of underwhelming compared to the hellfire scenarios he'd attached to the idea of parties. Two of them were just dancing and the rest of them were sitting around.

"Checkpoint!" Finn finally announced.

"Did we win?" Joe asked.

"Not the whole game. We just reached a good break. Dude, you're a natural shot. You only got lost once, too."

"Well, I just stuck to Sam," said Joe, grinning.

"Sam's a good co-pilot," Puck said, staring at his laptop's monitor. "He won't steer you wrong. So what are we in the mood for tonight?"

"Nothing too scary," Sam told him. "Maybe a little girl-on-girl? That's always good."

"Mmm, yes. Yes. That gets my vote. Life-changer," said Artie. "So sad Santana took down her and Brittany's sex tape. It's weird, since it's my ex-girlfriend in the tape, and yet, so awesome, so hot. It makes me feel like I've done it with a porn star."

Puck said, "Seeing as how half of us have slept with either Brittany or Santana, or in my case, both, and considering the amount of cross-pollination that goes on in glee, I think technically, at this point, we've all been with a porn star."

Artie laughed. "Okay, that's true."

"Wait, did you guys actually see it? I never watched it," Finn said. "I thought it'd be creepy."

"Yeah," Sam said, tipping his beer can up for a swig. "It was supposed to be private, so. That's too weird for me."

"I overheard it being blocked, directed and filmed," said Rory. "Lots of giggling. There were multiple takes. Brittany's actually really skilled at iMovie. And Lord Tubbington's grand at scrubbing behind the toilet."

Puck shook his head disdainfully. "What a wasted opportunity. I'd've busted in and become the star of that little show."

"Hey, so, are we going for the girl-on-girl?" Finn asked, with careful interest.

"What are we talking about?" Joe finally interjected. "A sex tape?"

"It ain't _Halo_ night without a sacred circle," Puck replied.

Sam tilted his head and muttered, "It's part of the tradition. You jerk off, right?"

Joe's mouth slipped open around a startled inhale at the question.

Taken aback, it took him a second to grapple for an answer. Sam made it sound like he expected the answer to be yes, without complicated justification. It wasn't something Joe did without attempting to rationalize it, and he'd never been able to settle on whether it was legitimately permissible and or not. The Bible didn't say anything about it, but it was still kind of like sex, right? But not really? How could something that felt so good be wrong? But then, what if truly good Christians were supposed to ignore all their lustful urges, rise above them lest they grow and overtake the spirit? Was it disrespecting his body to give into its cravings? What about when he couldn't exactly help it and woke up with wet sheets? What if he truly tried not to think of anyone with a lustful heart, especially pretty blondes with soulful green eyes?

"Sometimes," Joe finally said, non-committally.

Sam simply nodded. "Everyone does."

"Not everyone," Joe countered. "Trust me."

"Okay," Sam replied cooperatively. "Not everyone. But most guys. I know as a Christian, you have some rules you abide by, but you're not, like, an extreme fundamentalist who takes things super-literally. Look how down you are with tattoos and disco-dancing and glee and gay people. A lot of Christians aren't. Some don't ever dance or listen to any music that isn't worship or that's played on instruments, and a lot of them don't love their neighbor as themselves. And I don't believe in that. Personally. It seems like you don't, either."

"Right. You talked about being a modern kind of Christian. I guess I'm one too."

"I believe in a thing called love," Sam said, making Puck snort. Sam added in a high-pitched vibrato, "Just list'n to the rhythm of m'heart!"

"Good God, gets me goin' when you talk all clean like that," Puck said.

Artie spoke up. "Okay. Long story short, there ain't no party like a Puckerman party, 'cause a Puckerman party don't stop till there's jizz on his mom's couch. Bible study later, queue up that lesbian porn now."

"It's a circle jerk," Sam murmured to Joe.

Joe just shook his head slowly, clueless.

"We all jerk off together," Sam clarified. "It's just for fun, and... I dunno, I thought I'd invite you into the fold." He continued on quickly, "I know what you're thinking. You don't wanna jack it in a room full of dudes. You're not gay. You're going to think we are, or you're going to think we think you are. Well, none of us are. Except Blaine. He actually is. And that might seem weird, but – it kind of works, actually."

Joe could feel his eyes narrowing as he tried to make sense of that. He stayed silent, trying to wrap his brain around the situation. It gave Sam time to pontificate further.

"Look, if I know Quinn, she's queen of your brain right now. And your junk. And you can't stop thinking about her, and how it would be just to grind with her. Not even sex, just – something. Anything. You wanna get up on her. Feel her body. Maybe you have to think of less than savory things just to not pop one while you're with her, or you have to take cold showers all the time. You have all this spare energy that you can't even control and you wanna do something with it, but you don't know what, 'cause Quinn is not an option."

It was uncannily accurate, rattled off with a certainty Joe knew came from experience and hitting him right in the chest. He couldn't even hear Sam mention her body without his own flushing in response.

"This totally helps," Sam added.

"You all do this?" Joe asked. "Like, all of you? Together?"

"It's kind of a bonding thing. Like being blood brothers," Finn said.

"That is romantic, Finn," Artie said sardonically. "We're more like spunk brothers."

On instinct, Joe turned to look at Rory, who was the only other guy that had joined glee that year. Rory shrugged a yellow-clad shoulder, one brow perked.

"Is this a joke or something?" Joe asked, just in case.

"Hey, man, we're not gonna force you to whip it out. We're all buds in this room. We just thought you might wanna join us instead of being the only dude in glee to _ah-choo_ this tradition," said Puck cuttingly. "That said, this is our thing, and if you don't want in on it, whatever, but don't ruin it for the rest of us. For the record, I totally believe in God and free love and all that good jazz, and I know this seems gay as hell, but it's not about that. This isn't a hook-up. It's just the best way to chill with your bros. We don't cross dicks, dude. No helping hands."

"Usually someone does get jizzed on, though," Sam said, and polished off the last of his beer.

"Usually it's you," Finn said with a sly smile.

"Hey, screw all you guys," Sam responded calmly. "You all team up on me for a reason."

"Well, the first time it was 'cause you wore a t-shirt with a target on it," Puck pointed out. "Like, what else am I supposed to make of that? Then it was 'cause we had to re-induct you into the club. And now it's just 'cause you're so totally willing to take it for the team."

"Well, if I wasn't a team player, you'd all be back to blowing your wads on Puck's mom's couch."

"Dark days," lamented Artie.

"Guys!" Blaine interrupted cheerfully. His face was red and glowy with sweat, and his hair was significantly more rumpled than Joe remembered it being before. He seemed way happy. "Are we doing this? What are we watching?"

"Girl-on-girl," Finn told him apologetically.

"Oh, okay. Whatever!"

"How many beers have you had?" Puck asked him. He'd gotten up and was unplugging his Xbox from the TV, plugging in a cable that ran to his laptop instead, Blaine's disco selections were still playing, and Mike had taken his shirt off.

"He's on number three," Mike reported.

Suddenly, things were moving fast. The party had totally shifted gears to the last thing Joe had ever expected. He knew he was at a fork in the road, and he knew which path was the obvious one to take: the one where he said, _Hey, guys, I'm just gonna sit this one out... it's just not my thing, but it's cool if you want to do it... I'll just take the bus home, you know? Okay, cool. It's been real. See you later._

He glanced at Sam, who offered him a half-smile.

"We can go in the other room and stick our heads under pillows if you want. No big deal."

Wasn't there some kind of... middle path? One that wasn't necessarily the most righteous path, but definitely not one where he wound up with his soul in mortal peril? He wasn't drinking, and that seemed fine with everybody else.

"... Can I just watch the movie and not do the other stuff?" asked Joe, and a small storm of whoops and high-fives thundered around him.

"Sure," said Sam with a laugh. He then got his hair ruffled up big-time by Mike as Mike passed by him to take his seat.

Joe stared at his friend for a moment.

He almost couldn't make sense of Sam. On Monday they were going to have a God Squad meeting about their shoe drive and he was going to listen to Sam pray. Since there were so few of them, they always each offered at least a few words. They always prayed for the guy who had tried to kill himself and his family, for the school and its faculty, for Sam's family who lived out of state, for Quinn's physical and mental health. They prayed for the glee club to place as high at Nationals as God saw fit; they prayed for strength and dedication and for a safe trip to Chicago; they prayed for the seniors about to graduate. It was strange to suddenly know that the guy across the tables from him did this kind of thing. But Sam's faith seemed real and free from doubt. Was this path really one that would lead him from God, or was it a path into Sam's modern, inclusive Christianity?

He could hear Puckerman's voice in his head. _Sam's a good co-pilot. He won't steer you wrong._

It became super hard to think about anything after Puck pushed play, though. He was on some website that looked like YouTube but totally wasn't YouTube, and he'd put it on the TV. Immediately, with zero build-up whatsoever, _bam_. Boobs. 

Actual, naked boobs.

A woman was panting, smooth tanned legs tugged up and wide open, and another woman, who was a pretty Hispanic brunette, was licking between her legs, and everything down there was bare and pink.

"I chose something on the more sensual side," said Puck, sounding like a connoisseur of pornography.

Yeah. This was pornography. Joe didn't know what he was expecting, actually. A movie? Like, with a plot and characters, maybe starring Kirk Cameron? Why would anyone ever jerk off to _Fireproof_?

Joe pulled his knees up and tucked his arms uneasily around them. It was almost embarrassing to be seeing this kind of thing. His eyes were not totally virginal. He'd seen his fair share of naked Adam and Eve art, some even in tattoo form, plus a bunch of old _Playboy_ magazines hidden in a box up in his grandparents' attic. When he was younger, he'd sneak up to look at them on hot summer days, sweaty and eager. Even though they were from the 60s and 70s, the women in them were still naked, after all. But he'd had a sense of privacy; it was his secret and no one ever found out, and at the time it had felt like not even God knew where he was or what he was up to, as ridiculous as that was. Here, along with the scarily visceral motion on the screen that had thousands of hits, he had the whole room to take into consideration and could practically feel God watching him.

"Nice," said Mike.

"Hmm," Blaine let out thoughtfully.

"Kurt's totally down with you looking at naked women having sex?" Joe asked him, seeking some kind of other disapproving opinion.

"Well, I'm not exactly into women, so he has nothing to be threatened by," Blaine replied.

"Get another beer in him and see what he says then," Puck teased.

"Please," said Blaine, rolling his eyes. "That's water under the bridge."

The video played on, with a dance song Joe didn't know playing on his phone filling the strange air left between girly noises and the absolutely audible sounds of wet licking and slurping. Joe didn't even need to actually _see_ it to feel himself become uncomfortably erect in his jeans, pretty much just because. But he glanced at it between long stares at the numbers flashing on the DVR unit below the screen. After five endless minutes, it ended as abruptly as it had begun, and suddenly Joe regretted not watching every second, since all he had to remember now were shining, flushed snatches. Literally.

"Three stars," said Artie.

"I'd give it five," said Mike wholeheartedly.

"Too short. It lacked a distinct beginning, middle, and end."

"It was just a clip."

"It lacked that certain _je ne sais quoi_ , from a directorial standpoint."

"Put on another, man," Finn suggested.

Sam's arm brushed Joe's ragged, ripped open sleeve for half a second, but that was all it took for Joe to realize Sam's hand was rubbing slowly at the front of his jeans, not a foot away from him. He stared for a second, breaths suddenly difficult to get in and let out, actually watching him long enough to see his fingers sliding along the length of what had to be his erection. It was totally as obvious as any Joe had ever had.

He looked away again casually, schooling his face with detached disinterest and prepared to pretend he hadn't seen it at all, but then he realized that just to the right, Finn and Blaine were doing the exact same thing as Sam, and his eyes widened of their own accord.

Blaine crossed his bare ankles casually.

"I'm throwing on some strap-on action, then I'll take requests," said Puck.

"Oh, good, I have a request," Blaine said, like he wasn't sitting there fondling himself through his bright red highwater chinos.

"No gay porn," Puck retorted.

"Isn't this gay porn?" asked Joe.

"Oh, man," Puck sighed. "You are so home-schooled. No offense."

The screen burst into movement again, and this time it showed a busty blonde woman on a black leather couch, wearing clear plastic heels and bending over with a smirk. Her bottom was generous on the screen, round, and her folds looked more like pink lips than the girl from the first clip's did, poutier and pronounced. The video started exactly in time for a camera angle switch. It watched from below as an unnatural, bright blue phallus stroked between them teasingly. The thing was attached to some kind of harness, which another woman was wearing.

"Do you want it?" the woman cooed.

"Ooh, yes, give it to me," the blonde replied.

"Beg for my cock, bitch," the woman in the harness urged.

"Oh, please, please, I want your cock in me! Please give it to me, please! Oh, yeah!"

"Man, this kind of uber-sexy porn talk just does not happen in real life," Finn said, sounding dejected.

"Rachel doesn't beg for your cock, huh?" Puck asked. "Sad. Are you sure you wanna marry her?"

Joe sat, still as a statue, shocked into staring at the TV. He'd never imagined something so insane in his entire life; it didn't seem real, but it clearly was because he could see _everything_. He guessed gay girls like Santana and Brittany had sex somehow, but a fake dick had never occurred to him. He had assumed dicks were just out of the picture entirely, maybe. But nope. There was a blue, shiny, slightly transparent plastic fake dick right in front of his face, plunging and disappearing into a woman, strapped onto the other so she could control it and thrust her hips like it was a part of her own body. It came out of the blonde woman shiny-wet and slid back in slowly, sinking out of sight, and the camera was close up on the action. Joe's senses were so electrified he felt like his heart might give out at any second.

He listened to the women talking to each other ("Chicks in high school don't talk like that!" Finn insisted; "Man, Santana sure gave you a raw deal," replied Puck), way more into it than he would've imagined as they humped and – had _sex_ ; "Blame it on the Boogie" come up again on shuffle, and Joe blinked nervously over too-wide eyes as he heard Puck laugh and ask Artie if that did anything for his _quoi_ and Artie reply that he was getting there.

Joe took a quick look over his shoulder and discovered that Finn, Blaine, and Sam weren't the only ones aroused and not remotely trying to hide it.

Mike was thumbing his own hard-on absently, tracing where it bulged under his pocket, and Rory had actually unzipped his rolled-up jeans and stuck his hand right in them. He was slouched far back, and his neck and chest were a bright pink. Artie was clutching a gloved hand to his junk through his khakis. Puck, however, was simply lazily straddling his chair and smirking, red Solo cup in hand. Joe didn't know whether to feel validated in his abstinence or not. Puck was clearly the ring-leader of this event.

By the end of the clip, which was replete with screaming and much longer than the first one, Joe felt like someone had their hands around his neck and were threatening to squeeze tighter and tighter; he'd never wanted to come so bad in his life. He'd never been so hard. He'd never been so hot in the face that he felt completely smothered by his own body heat, trapped in his clothes. He was pretty sure he'd just witnessed one of those women having an orgasm. He'd never felt further from caring about sex outside of marriage being a sin. Up until that second, how a woman orgasmed had remained a total mystery to him.

"Suggestions," Puck called out.

"Blow job," Mike threw out. Joe had to actually struggle to swallow against the lump in his throat.

He was distracted, then, by Sam shifting next to him, leaning back as he unbuckled his brown leather belt.

This time Sam caught him staring, green eyes flicking up and meeting Joe's. A smile that started off sheepish and polite spread wide.

"You can watch if you want."

"'S okay," wheezed Joe, barely able to get the words out through a windpipe tight with shameful, embarrassed arousal.

"I want to watch," said Blaine, in such a manner that it was evident Joe had just insulted Sam, but no problem – Blaine was there to reassure.

"'Course you do," Puck chuckled, watching Blaine scoot along the carpet till he could see Sam... and everybody else, for that matter, Joe realized. Now they were seated more like a circle, or at least a crescent moon.

"Maybe we should skip to the finale," Artie spoke up. He was eying Rory.

"Already?"

"Well, it is almost eleven," Finn said regretfully. "We promised Joe's parents we'd have him home by eleven-thirty."

"Well, fuck, guess we better get the lead out."

Joe, stiff in every conceivable way, stared as Sam lurched up onto his knees, and then his feet, suddenly the center of the room, and Artie gave him a cup-mouthed howl.

"Hey, since we have this cheesy music on, how 'bout you display some of them famous body rolls, there, White Chocolate?" teased Puck.

"Not unless you're gonna shove money into my pants," Sam shot back. Nevertheless, he reached behind his head and tugged his red t-shirt off by the collar, then tossed it with a keen pitch onto the mantel beside the Star of David cross-stitch.

"So modest," grinned Puck. "You know you like to give us free shows."

"Hey, I'm already getting naked for your benefit, here," Sam said, unbuttoning his fly.

"Just one!" called Mike.

"Yeah, just one!" Blaine echoed. Joe didn't miss the way his eyes were wide and attentive, clearly more interested in Sam shedding his clothes than he had been in the porn.

Sam shook his head, grinning crookedly, and tossed his hips into clumsy motion for his audience.

Joe had seen him break out that writhing move on Coach Sylvester's crazy light-up dance floor during disco week, but it was different just then, even with dance music on; Sam was half-naked, pants unbuttoned, and other than Joe, everyone had their hand on their dicks, and Sam's was grinding up against the denim of his jeans, getting thrust visibly at them. They all gave him a whoop, like something in the video game had just exploded hugely in their faces, so he bit down on his grin and gave them another roll, one hand clutched into a flex and the other thrusting his zip down slow.

"Oh, sweet baby Jesus!" Artie hollered. "Where's my wallet."

Sam was smiling so brilliantly that Joe was legitimately confused. Even though what he was doing was so sexual and strange, Sam looked happy to be the center of attention, and so gratified that Joe didn't feel nearly as uncomfortable watching him as he had felt watching lesbians have sex on the internet.

He found himself smiling, too, and muttering, "Whoa," as Sam eased his jeans down with an obviously practiced slide, turning in place so they could see his sleek back rippling with the movement his shoulders. He slowly, teasingly dropped his jeans to his knees, revealing his ass and thighs, belt caught in one fist to keep them from going all the way to his ankles.

"Skills," Mike said.

It wasn't that he was a good dancer, Joe realized. Sam's body was like a work of art.

His face really looked like something God had made lovingly in His hands; He had been generous with his mouth, giving him a lot of it and shaping it to be curvy, soft, and also generous in turn, full of smiles; there were little crinkles in the corners of his eyes that made him look affectionate as he pointed to Puck; and his eyes seemed innocent even though he was giving them all a taste of Sodom and Gomorrah right then and there.

Each flex of his body put it on display, blatant. He was always lifting weights and sticking to carrot sticks and soy bars at lunchtime, health-conscious and body-conscious, and it showed; here, he totally abided by that whole thing about treating your body like a temple. Heck, his body _was_ a freaking temple. That much was obvious by the inspired worship that was going on in the form of hooting and laughing and Finn saying, "Yeah, Sam! That's what won us Sectionals!"

Blaine had unzipped his fly and shoved his hand into his pants; Joe could see him stroking his dick under the fabric, hand moving along it plain as day, and couldn't even blame him.

Moving clumsily, Sam dropped to his knees, as hard in his white Jockey boxer-briefs as Blaine clearly was.

"Let's do this," he said, blinking at the room at large, "c'mon. I'm ready. Who's gonna be first?"

"Irish," Puck said knowingly.

"Blaine," Joe found himself saying, getting his bare foot nudged by Blaine's.

One corner of Sam's mouth tilted up. "Okay. Rory and Blaine are the ones to beat. You guys better whip it out."

Joe watched Sam shove his hand into his plain Jockeys and knead at his balls, squeezing them a few times before slowly taking his dick in hand under the cotton. He watched Sam's eyelashes flutter and his gaze dart intently around the room. After a minute, Joe's followed it, bouncing from dude to dude.

That was when he realized everyone in the room was jerking off but him, and looking at each other do it. He was literally surrounded with hard, bared dicks standing up tall from open flies, or in Rory's case, shoved-down jeans and underwear. And it all seemed kosher as could be that everyone's personal business was on display for everyone else in the room to see.

Puck seemed most interested in the abject display that was Sam, and not concerned with getting anywhere fast, but Artie's eyes were drifting open and closed again like he required immense concentration, and Mike was openly watching Rory.

Rory was obviously in it to win it – if it was actually some kind of contest. The mere sight of him prickled at Joe. He was baring the most skin besides Sam, huffing and puffing, face as pink as a Valentine heart, hand (with its thick black cuff at the wrist) slinking fast along his equally flushed dick. Like the rest of him, Rory wasn't the largest guy in the room, but his foreskin was moving slickly over the head of his dick, rolling with his hand, and even Joe could tell he was ready to blow and alternatively hurrying to get there and trying not to by repeatedly pausing. His muscles were nowhere near as defined as Sam's, but he was all out, shameless.

Joe craned around to look the other way.

To his right, Blaine had leaned back onto one elbow, eased his red pants down a bit, and drawn his cock out of the y-front of his snug black briefs, working it and clearly fixating between Sam and Finn. He looked flushed, red-faced and glassy-eyed, limbs loose from the alcohol. Joe could see his bare toes curling as he took full advantage of his permission to be there, and when Joe looked at Finn to see if he was wary of being looked at like that, he found Finn staring at his phone while he stroked himself slowly. He looked composed and almost like he was in private. Maybe he was Googling porn, thought Joe.

For a surreal moment, it was all just disco and the tell-tale noise of jerking off, oddly multiplied and constant, heated breaths and strange silence under that, and Joe's stare inevitably returned to Sam right in front of him.

Sam had leaned back, one hand tense on the carpet just behind him, knees in the widest V his jeans would allow, his torso stacked with lean muscle. He was staring at Blaine while Blaine was watching Finn, then he looked right at Joe, as though able to feel that he was being looked at. Their eyes met for a moment. Then Sam's were raking over Joe's body like he wasn't fully zipped and also curled on himself, knees tucked up under his arms.

"Circle," Mike blurted suddenly, the word spurring Sam to move in closer to Joe and Blaine to seemingly follow, swaying on his eager way up and nearly going right back down.

Instincts kicking in, Joe caught him by his compact shoulders before he could fall over, and Blaine laughed, swaying and clutching back at Joe. He was way closer than Joe had ever thought he'd be to anyone's junk.

"You good?" he asked, trying to keep his eyes averted.

"Yeah, I'm good. Thanks, man," he panted, friendly, and took his hand back after a pat. "You really should join us."

"Joe can do whatever he wants, Blaine," said Finn.

"Of course he can. You're totally right, Finn," purred Blaine, edging past Joe not having flagged in the least. Not that Joe was looking at his hard-on in his hand. "You can join us _if you want_. You're right in the middle of the action anyway."

That was an unnerving truth. Rory and Mike were both up, now, stroking their erections, Mike much taller and longer in both senses; Joe moved instinctively out of the way, backing from the cluster, and saw how Sam seemed to be a magnet, pulling the guys in the room to him one by one.

"Ready?" Sam panted, alert, looking up at both Mike and Rory with his big eyes.

"I think Mike's gonna win this time," sang Blaine.

"Yeah, look at this dark horse, comin' outta nowhere," Puck kidded. He was in no great hurry to win anything.

"Nope," Joe heard Finn mutter. "Rory."

Sure enough, Rory stepped forward, and Sam tilted in his way responsively.

"C'mon, you can do it," Sam murmured, coaxing, and got hit right in the face split second later with a thick white load that skittered up his forehead and quickly down his cheek, repeated pulses wetting his skin. It was somehow shocking and disgusting, or at least Joe would have definitely assumed it was supposed to be until right then, but Sam's eyes and mouth closed, lids quivering, and his body strained from knee to nose, and Joe could tell that he was the opposite of shocked and disgusted. Sam wanted it.

And so did the other guys.

"There we go. Right in the face," Artie laughed, but it wasn't mean, it was husky and approving.

"It's that damn foreskin," Puck said. "Almost makes me want one."

Rory, panting, wrung everything he could from his round pink knob, and had barely stepped back when Mike stepped up and caught Sam by surprise, grabbing him by the hair to keep him where he was and unloading on his round flushed cheek. Sam huffed, a sharp "Mmm," in his throat not making it past his clenched jaw. His arm worked in a few furtive jerks, and Joe didn't know what the hell to think as Mike's come dribbled straight from the tip of his cock to Sam's shoulder.

Sam got his hair tousled, then, and not even with a hand that was clean. 

"Nice, Mike," he muttered, blinking and grinning weirdly. "That was fast!"

"Yeah, well," said Mike, with some faux modesty, sighing as he tucked himself back into his underwear.

"Two down, five to go," said Puck, enjoying the way Sam earnestly tipped his face up, his eyes closing again.

"Four," Rory said. He'd slumped back onto the couch again but had yet to pull up his pants. "Joe's just watching."

"Somebody," Sam breathed, cracking an eye open carefully, then saying, "Blaine. C'mere."

Blaine was more than ready; he climbed off his knees, saying, "Want it, Sam? Then tilt your head back for it."

Sam tilted, eyes squeezing shut, chin turning towards Blaine, hand restlessly squeezing himself. Joe could see come clinging to his cheekbone and sliding down his neck to his bare collar bone.

"Hang on," Finn said suddenly, heaving himself up out of his seat. One hand was on his erection and the other was tucking his phone into his hoodie's pocket. "Let's double-team."

"Gay," snorted Puck.

"Like you're not gonna come on his face," Blaine retorted, earning a clap on the back from Finn. Next to Finn, he seemed even shorter than he already was, or Finn seemed even taller, or something.

"It's symbolic, okay," Finn said. "Leadership and passing on the torch and all that! I'm gonna grab your hair, dude. Get you right where you need to be."

"Do it," intoned Sam, inhaling sharply when Finn took him by the hair and gave him a pull back. "Just don't come in my hair."

"How about your mouth?" asked Blaine teasingly.

"On it, not in it," Sam breathed, and closed it purposefully, lips briefly bowing then settling plush and pink and waiting.

Joe observed carefully, having successfully become one with the inanimate objects in the room, as Blaine and Finn's hands moved deliberately and Sam flexed from knee to knee in anticipation, the gulp he swallowed as obvious in his throat as the red stain slowly spreading down his chest. Finn's head rolled briefly back, but Blaine clutched his own neck (maybe so he wouldn't clutch Sam's) and stared down at the sight in front of him for a few beats before he lost it, breaths loud and gusting. The first pulse arced over Sam's face, landing messily, but the next Blaine aimed at Sam's mouth, filling the crevice between his lips and the dent above his upper lip with pearly come. Finn followed before Blaine was even done, giving him a heavy dose down his temple and cheek. And as crude, gross, and unbelievable as the sight of Sam's face literally covered in so much jizz was – as uncomfortable and provoking as it was to see – Joe still somehow felt like he wanted to be next. It tugged at his most primal instincts.

But Puck was next. He climbed off his chair and swaggered up to Sam while his hair was still well in Finn's grasp and Blaine was still restlessly sliding his dick through his fist, teasing himself past orgasm. Puck had the thickest erection in the room and seemed to know it, bolstering it in his fingers importantly.

"How 'bout some more?" he asked Sam.

"Mm," Sam got out, seeming strung tense.

"Man, you're covered in it already, though. It's in your eyelashes," Puck said. "Can't even talk, huh? Lips covered in jizz."

Sam whimpered, a pathetic chesty noise.

"I think he likes it," Puck commented, grinning at Artie – and at Rory and Mike, who were chilling on the couch. "Don't you?"

"He's got room for more," Artie replied.

"Whose you want, dude? Me and Artie both got fat loads to blow."

Puck seemed to actually like the fact that Sam's response was an unformed moan, something he couldn't shape into a word with his mouth unless he wanted come to slide into it. He slid his hand around the back of Sam's neck, letting Finn wander back towards Joe with a satisfied little smirk that Joe didn't understand at all.

Sam was righted from his tilt and guided towards Artie, shuffling on his knees with his jeans around his calves. Joe watched curiously as Puck walked him right up to Artie's chair and leaned him against Artie's knees. How Blaine and Finn coming on Sam at the same time was gayer than Puck talking like that, or anything else going on at this party, he didn't know.

"There you go," Puck said, seeming content to watch Sam blindly get his bearings and duck his head in Artie's lap. If Joe didn't know way better it would've looked loving, Sam's head bowed as if in obedience.

"Okay, his mouth is super-tempting," Artie panted, making Blaine point and nod, grinning. Joe could hear Sam's wincing gasp from where he was sitting, an attentive fly on the wall.

"Do it to him, dude," said Puck indulgently.

"Yeah, Artie," Blaine said, drifting on his bare feet so he could see better – in stark contrast to Finn, who had reclined like Rory, only with his jeans pulled up and fastened, and now looked like he was about to fall asleep in his armchair.

"It's dripping down his abs," Mike chuckled to Rory. "Bet that's yours."

"Fuck," Artie gasped.

"Do it, dude. He's ready," Puck encouraged, then exclaimed, "Whoa! It's in his hair now."

Joe waited for Sam to get mad, but instead he grabbed at Artie's wheel, jerking off furiously next to his feet, and let Artie drench his hair and face. Even from the back Joe could see his body tensing athletically, primed.

After that, as Artie sucked in gasps of air, Puck simply grabbed Sam's bare shoulder and tugged him upright again.

"Covered," he repeated fondly. "Nice job. Look at all this teamwork and leadership and morale-boosting happening, here."

Rory laughed, and Mike chorused, "Good job, Sam."

"Just one left," Puck declared. "Unless Joseph wants to join the party."

The shock Joe felt as eyes turned to him was dim at best. He was well aware that he was so hard and ripe for it that he was getting his hemp boxers wet around twitch after twitch of hot, slippery precome, and there simply was no hiding it or denying it. He knew it now. He _got_ it now. There was no judgment about it. This was the idea. He was hardly alone.

"Can you really say no to this face?" Puck asked, eliciting a tiny smile from Sam, the corner of which dripped with come.

He sighed, which didn't relieve the ache in his chest or belly at all.

"Yeah, join the party, Joe!" Blaine said gregariously, obviously seeing his weakness. "Join the club for real!"

"Get over here," Artie commanded.

"You know you want to, Joe," Mike said easily. "And you know Sam wants you to. He's the one who invited you."

"He was, wasn't he?" said Puck, seeming amused.

Finally, Joe got to his feet, and feeling everyone in the room (besides Sam) cheer made him grin sheepishly.

"You owe me twenty bucks," Mike told Rory.

"I'm so shocked," said Puck. "Attaboy, dreads. Tell you what, I'll make your first time real easy on you. We'll do it Hudson style, two against one. All symbolic-like."

"Uh, _gay_ ," murmured Blaine.

"You are way more fun after a few cold ones," Puck took the time to tell Blaine, leering. To Joe, he said, "Get it out. Let's see what you're working with."

Joe unfastened his jeans slowly, aware of everyone looking at him – except Sam, who straightened anxiously, perked like a golden retriever called to attention. He was a mess, and now that Joe was coming closer, he could smell how much Sam reeked of sex, sharp and bitter and warm. It smelled kind of like the McKinley locker room but fresher, more intimate, and less like athlete's foot spray. Still, he could smell the jizz and sweat and feel the testosterone. There was totally come in his hair, matted in his eyelashes, thick strings of it having curled around his cheek and slipped down to his throat, collecting in visible droplets and streaks on his chest. His mouth fell open, fat and wet, as Joe looked at it.

"Joe," he got out carefully, "are you sure?"

"You can't see how totally boned he is, but I can, so trust me, he wants to," Puck told Sam.

Joe let his jeans sag, the wet patch on his underwear visible to all, a shiver racing over his skin as he actually busted his dick out the slit in his boxers. It was almost too much just to feel it swinging in the air, definitely too much to feel it in his hand, and way, way too much to jack it, while Puckerman did the same to his a couple of feet away, and Sam, too, desperately shoved the elastic of his Jockeys down and held it out of the way as he worked his fist up his hard-on. Just seeing that made every cell in Joe's body flare, his cock thickening impossibly harder in his hand, eyes hungrily taking in the fact that the head of Sam's was red and wet, its shaft as sleek and pretty and used as Sam himself was, and he came right then and there, not a dozen strokes in.

His come hit Sam's chin, striped his chest, and Sam leaned for him eagerly; Puck stepped in close and unloaded on his cheek, and for a few hot moments, Joe felt strangely connected to both Sam and Puck.

Briefly, he and Puck were feeling the same thing, and there was no shame in it, no other sensations or thoughts, just the immense satisfaction of watching Sam bite on the inside of his lip and bask in each pulse they let off on him. His eyelids squinched tenderly and his brow pulled. Fully in the moment with them, Sam let out a gutted noise, body wrenching, and Puck casually grabbed the back of his head, fisting the hair he could manage to grab, and kept him still as he nutted up his own insane abs.

"Look at him come," Rory exclaimed. "That's a lot of fucking come."

"That has to be the most he's ever taken at once," Mike declared, as Puck let out a tiny blurt into the blond hair that typically fell in a flutter over Sam's forehead.

"Yeah, not too shabby," grunted Puck. "Welcome to the team, Teen Jesus. You made the right choice."

"I dunno if I'd go so far as to say that," Joe said throatily, although he was tingling all over his entire body and had never felt like this in his entire life, like he'd hopped up into a higher consciousness. It was simultaneously exciting and peaceful. He didn't know whether he wanted to lie flat on his back and drift off into the humming ecstasy or do it all over again as soon as possible.

"Show-stopper," Artie countered.

"Towel," Sam uttered from the floor.

It turned out that almost every towel in the stack by the TV was for him.

Sam's hair was still damp from his quick scrub-down in Puck's shower ("I told you not to come in my hair!") when they pulled up to Joe's house an even five minutes before curfew. He was in the backseat instead of Joe, though, sprawled on his back and quiet, half-asleep. They were all quiet, actually, but it was a serene, satisfied quiet. The whole way home, Joe had luxuriated in the knowledge that they were all on the exact same page, bonded together on that higher plane by what they'd done.

"See you Monday, man," said Finn, offering him a bump of knuckles.

"See you," echoed Joe. "Bye, Sam. Uh, thanks. Both of you. Guys. It was – fun. Good night."

Sam lifted a hand rather than speak or even open his eyes, but Joe didn't miss the smile that tugged one corner of his mouth.

"You're home early," said Joe's mom approvingly. She was sitting in their kitchen on a stool, working on her latest black light painting, a Madonna and child in glow-in-the-dark neons on velvet.

"Just five minutes," Joe said.

"Well, how was it, fighting aliens?" she wanted to know.

"It's really boring to watch other people play video games," offered Joe. "But they got me to play. And it was pretty fun. I was kind of good at it. And, uh, we listened to old Michael Jackson songs and... Puck's mom got this truly big bag of Cheetos."

"Good for you, making friends so quick. Your dad and I like your friend, the blond kid," she said, artistically embellishing a spoke in neon orange on the Virgin Mary's halo. "He seems nice. Open-minded, like you."

"He is." Joe paused thoughtfully. "They all are, actually."

"Looks like you chose wisely," said his mom, freaking him out a little.

After a hasty good night, Joe went to his room and sealed himself into it safely, like his door would keep all his impure thoughts from sloshing down the hall. Like it was any other night and he hadn't just gotten totally swept away by pornography and chasing after strange flesh, he fished his house key from his pocket and plugged in his phone. He had a couple of text messages from Quinn.

_How goes the Puckerman party?_

_No, don't tell me. Let me guess. Video games, beer, unwilling nudity... armpit noises?_

He deliberated; he wasn't going to violate the inherent bro code (which he now completely understood) by telling her that the nudity was all willing... even on his part... and couldn't help his thoughts turning back to Sam. Sam and his open-mindedness and modern take on Christianity, covered in come like a desecrated temple.

_Replace armpit noises w/disco and that was pretty much it..._


End file.
